


The eyes behind the mask

by winter_ym



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind Character, Blind Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Dream SMP Ensemble, Minecraft Manhunt on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Darryl Noveschosch, Protective GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-24 14:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30073563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_ym/pseuds/winter_ym
Summary: Dream wears a mask because he is blind.Nobody knows.And he wants it to stay that way.*a collection of ups and downs (Dream has the most tragic past but the best friends)*
Relationships: Antfrost & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Callahan & Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 97
Kudos: 695





	1. The past and the present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A backstory on Dream’s blindness and how he processes the world around him. Enjoy!

Dream scooped up a bucket of water. Walking along the edge of the lava pool, he could feel that it was wide enough. He placed a piece of cobblestone down, then emptied his bucket next to it. Using his pickaxe, he mined the piece of cobblestone, hearing the satisfying hiss of obsidian being formed as lava touched water.

Rhythmic, practiced, calculated movements. Dream had done these thousands of times, maybe even millions. He had to. 

-

Dream still remembered when he was newly blinded, a potion of harming thrown in his face, the glass shattering and creating the scars that dotted his skin, now faint markings on his face. He could still feel them when he ran his fingertips over his skin.

The potion of harming had splashed straight into his eyes and pain had erupted over his face. He had nothing to wash it out - no water, no milk to drink to relieve the potion’s effects. He was still fleeing from his attackers, his hands rubbing frantically at his eyes, stumbling through the darkness; away, away from the angry voices behind him. Eventually he fell, tumbling under the roots of a large tree and took shelter. The next few days were spent hiding within the thick wooden cage of the old tree, with no food, no water, nothing to heal himself.

His eyes had never been the same. 

He didn’t know what they looked like at all - were they milky like he imagined? Or had their colour and appearance been unaffected by the potion? He remembered his mother telling him he had the most beautiful shade of forest-green eyes, that was, before she was killed by the ones who had blinded him.

-

Dream stepped into his now finished nether portal, feeling the coolness of the teleporting magic engulf him, a world away from the hot, angry magic that had been thrown in his face.

In the nether he ran, his other senses mapping out his surroundings. He avoided lava, which poured waves of heat and made loud popping noises. He dodged arrows that flew from piglins’ crossbows, moving away from the high-pitched whistling they made as they cut through the air.

It was all going smoothly.

Until it wasn’t.

An enraged hoglin charged at him, catching him off guard as he bridged over a pool of lava. Too focused on his task of building, calculating his distance to the other side and his distance above the lava below him and occasionally dodging the arrows that were rapidly fired from behind him, he had no time to escape when it stormed towards him. Stupid. He should have at least felt the heavy thuds and vibrations as the large animal pounded towards him. The hoglin’s tusks slammed into his lower torso, knocking the wind out of him, the blunt force of it throwing him back and straight into the lava below.

Ahhhhhh, it burned. He could feel it eating away at his skin and cooking him alive. But the worst part of it was his eyes. They felt as if they were being stabbed repeatedly by a hot iron. Even the mask on his face couldn’t protect them.

-

Dream respawned, the pain slowly subsiding from his skin and face.

“Bad run?” George’s voice sounded from the left.

Dream turned to face his friend, not fully aware of where he was due to the pounding in his head.

“Tossed into lava again. Those damn hoglins have anger management issues.”

George laughed, walking towards his friend and slinging his arm around his shoulders. 

“Not the first time.”

“You jerk.”

They began their walk to George’s house, Dream grateful for George’s arm that was unintentionally guiding him over the unfamiliar terrain.

“And then Sapnap turned around and slapped Bad in the ass,” George turned and dramatically mimed, a loud slapping noise sounding as he slapped his own leg to mimic the event. “You should have seen Bad’s face… LANGUAGE!” He roared, a shocked expression on his face no doubt, unaware that Dream could not see his friend’s oscar-winning acting. 

Still, Dream could picture it and he knew George well enough by now to know that although he was older than him, he acted like a total child, including but not limited to over-the-top acting, movements and facial expressions.

“Sapnap must have loved that, he’s always going on about Bad’s cake in the back.”

“Nah,” George paused to take a breath from his laughter, “Bad won’t admit it, but he loved it more.”

Both men collapsed in laughter, practically falling to the ground where they stayed for more than 5 minutes, Dream laughing in what people called his signature tea kettle wheeze.

-

Dream hated to admit it, but usually after respawning, his senses weren’t what they should be. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but the splash of magic into his face seemed to have seeped past his eyes, into his brain. 

His hearing became much sharper - he could hear the flip of a page from a different room and the sound of someone breathing from across the room. His sense of smell and touch had also grown acute, allowing him to navigate the world as a book of clues, which he had to interpret to form an image around him.

He didn’t know if it was the pain or disorientation from respawning, but his senses always felt a bit duller after he came back, missing simple cues, even sounds that were close by.

That is why, when he stepped into George’s stupid mushroom house that he had built while the SMP was at war, he completely walked into a chest that George had shifted since Dream had last been here. In his attempt to move confidently even though he could practically not make any sense of his surroundings, his shin had banged into it hard, sending him toppling forward and onto the ground.

“Why’d you move that, George?”

“What do you mean by ‘why’d you move that’? It was right in front of you!”

“I- I- Sorry, I’m probably just tired, that’s all. That’s what three hours of speedrunning practice does to you I guess.”

George sighed, then reached out a hand to help Dream up, only for his hand to be blatantly ignored. A few beats passed with his hand hovering in the air, waiting.

“Okay, if that’s how it is,” George turned and walked away, grumpy.

“Wait, George. I- I’m not mad or anything!” Dream, who did not notice the extended hand, slowly shifted his position on the ground with a grunt, still confused. “It’s just a chest, it’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Whatever,” said the British boy, moodily tossing mushrooms into a pot over the fire.

An uncomfortable silence passed, Dream still sat on the floor, pouting slightly under his mask. George couldn’t not feel bad for him - Dream was the one who had fallen after all.

“Would you like some mushroom stew, Dream?”

“Yes please,” Dream replied, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. After a pause… “George, I’m still confused. Why are you mad at me again?”

George had just begun to reply when the door burst open.

“HEY- MAMAS,” Sapnap paused to take in the scene before him. A confused and cute Dream on the floor and a George by the stove with his mouth open, looking like he was about to say something. 

“Ooooo, is that mushroom stew I see?” Sapnap hurried up to George and snatched a bowl off the countertop.

“Sapnap! That’s mine!” 

George chased Sapnap around the house, frantically trying to retrieve the stolen bowl of stew. Eventually, he gave up, going back to stirring the rest of the stew and putting it into bowls for himself and Dream.

“I love you, George!” Sapnap joked through a mouthful of warm stew. Then, “Dream, why are you sitting on the floor?”

“The idiot walked into my chest and basically face planted. It was quite funny, actually.” George sat down at the table with Sapnap, stew in hand.

“Dream, if you’re ever up to getting up, which I doubt, because you ignored my offer to help you up earlier, there’s some stew left in the pot.”

“What offer?”

George let out a theatrical sigh. “And he does it again. Pretends to not notice things right in front of his face. Dream, this joke really isn’t that funny.”

It was then that Dream realised George must have done the thing where you extend a hand to help someone up. He must’ve not noticed it. Well, time for excuses.

“I think it’s a really funny joke, like how you always pretend to not know what colour is.” A bit much? Maybe. But George was getting on his nerves.

“But I’m actually colourblind,” George groaned in frustration. “Look, ask me what colour something is.”

“What colour is Sapnap wearing?” Dream asked, no idea what the answer was.

“Blue! But I can see blue, so this isn’t proving my point.” George shook his head in mock disapproval. “Look, Sapnap. He is a fool. There’s a fool on my floor.”

Sapnap had just finished his stew, and breathed out in content. “George, the only fool here is you.”

Dream, grateful for the change in topic, got up, grabbed a spoon and ate straight from the pot like the well-mannered gentleman he was. (Also because he couldn’t tell where the bowl George had taken out for him was)

“Are you guys ready for Manhunt tomorrow?”

“Yes. And you are getting absolutely obliterated because we have formulated the best plan,” George replied.

“Oh? And what plan is that?”

“Do I look like an idiot to you, Dream?”

_No, you actually don’t look like anything to me,_ he was tempted to say but he had self-restraint.

“Yes, you do in fact. And no, you are not winning because I am prepared for whatever dumb plan you guys have.”

“I can totally see that from your successful nether run today.”

“Fell into lava again?” Sapnap interjected.

“Tossed by a hoglin.”

“Oh yes, our strongest allies.”

Dream would have to be at his best tomorrow if he wanted to win. He couldn’t handle the nether without disruptions. How was he going to deal with all four hunters AND the nether? He decided to get back home and turn in early to recover his senses for the next day.

“Bye George, bye Sapnap. I’m going home now. Thanks for the stew.”

“Bye Dream,” his two friends called.

Dream left the house, traversing the familiar route home, the noises of George and Sapnap bickering filling the night air.

The next day was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have always found this character of blind Dream very intriguing, especially since he has the mask thing going on to hide his face. I am also a big advocate for disabled rights and education, so why not make an amazing character like Dream disabled? 
> 
> To clear up any misconceptions about blindness, not all blind people see nothing (actually 99% of blind people have some remaining vision left) and while some blind people can use echolocation, many don’t. In this instance, Dream is completely blind due to the potion of harming, with enhanced senses due to the potion’s effect on his brain. If I mess anything up, please correct me - I am also looking to learn more! :))
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, and feel free to leave constructive criticism and ideas for future chapters when I inevitably get stuck. (and kudos because they spark joy)


	2. Not a normal Manhunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minecraft Manhunt but from the perspective of blind Dream. 
> 
> Another glimpse into his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to AO3 statistics, a large percentage of you are not subscribed.
> 
> Subscribing sends notifications to your email when I add new chapters, so it is a great way to keep updated!
> 
> Enjoy this chapter of "The eyes behind the mask" :)

Dream rose early the next morning. He couldn’t feel the heat of the sun through his window, meaning the sun hadn’t risen yet.

He spent the morning getting ready, preparing his mind for the manhunt. He ran through all his tactics he had written down beforehand, trailing his fingers over the braille he had punched in a piece of paper over the past month or so, getting ready for this day.

Hearing someone at his door, he hastily threw the brailled paper back into the hidden chest he kept all his braille items in and locked it. Luckily he always slept with his mask on.

The person knocked softly. “Dream?” 

What was BadBoyHalo doing here?

“Hey, Bad. Come in.”

The door creaked on its hinges and a very sleepy BadBoyHalo entered. He caught Dream standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“What are you doing up so early? Preparing for manhunt today?”

“Maybe,” Dream teased, “Why aren’t you preparing?”

“We are 100% ready,” Dream could hear the smirk in Bad’s voice, “Okay, then. I’ll leave you to it. You’ll need all the preparation time you can get.”

“See you later, Bad.”

“Good luck, Dream.”

Bad left Dream alone once again. Now was the most important time of the day. Dream sat on the floor, legs crossed. He closed his eyes and extended his senses, metaphorical fingers that reached out to the world around him, mapping out every square inch with a delicate touch.

A tree outside rustled in the gentle morning breeze, he could smell the scent of oak and hear the small, light leaves hit one another, the noise almost blending into the wind. A fox - no - baby fox (it’s paws on the ground were too quiet to be an adult fox) ran past the tree. Across from his house, he could hear a sheep ba, then the sound of grass being pulled out of the ground - no doubt the sheep grazing. He sat in silence for a long time, just listening.

Dream’s concentration was broken by a high pitched scream in the distance.

“SAPNAP!!!! EEEEEEEEEEE!!!! STOP!!!”

It was George. Slowly, Dream got up, laughing at his friend’s ridiculous antics. He made sure his mask was tightly secured in place, put the hood of his hoodie up, then stepped out the front door.

He was ready.

-

“GET HIM!” Dream pushed past George, giving him a little shove as he bolted through the gap in their square-shaped formation.

He had chosen the direction that felt the driest and he hoped that the sand that hit his ankles (blown by the wind) meant that he would be running into a desert. He had a mini mental celebration as his feet hit sand. The four hunters on his tail, he sprinted over the sandy slopes, once in a while picking up dead bushes he heard rustling in front of him to use as sticks.

There was a hollow of sound from downwards ahead. Ravine?

“There’s a ravine! There’s a ravine!” George confirmed for him.

This was his favourite part - parkour. It was always as dangerous and thrilling as before. 

He ran forward, mentally calculating how far the jump was - yes, it was short enough. When he could no longer sense ground in front of him, he leapt, clearing what would have been a deadly drop straight down. The other hunters stopped in their tracks to avoid getting pushed in.

-

Still in the desert, he could sense sound being stopped by a large object ahead - a desert temple! Carefully, he dropped in, sticking close to the walls to avoid stepping on the pressure plate that would activate an explosion. He rummaged through the chests, collecting gold, rotten flesh, gunpowder and (YES!) an enchanted golden apple.

His joy was short-lived, as the hunters jumped into the temple and he heard the small click and hiss of Antfrost setting off the TNT. Not wasting any time, he shoved the god apple into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. The explosion almost killed him, knocking him against the wall where he boxed himself in, devouring putrid rotten flesh to restore his health. 

He grinned as they began to kill each other in the tight space and towered out, hindered slightly as he tried to find the exit. 

-

One thing he loved about his senses was that nobody could sneak up on him. That was probably the main reason why he was able to survive manhunts and outsmart the hunters. Every time they would get close, he would slip away, managing to evade all four at once.

People were completely unaware of how much noise they could make. In fact, when people tiptoed and tried to stay quiet, it was easier to differentiate them from, for example, a random pig walking around at a regular pace. When someone walked slowly, trying to be silent and undetectable, they stuck out like a sore thumb.

After a successful manhunt, George had asked him: “How do you always know when we’re sneaking up on you? Do you have eyes on the back of your head?”

“No, and if I did, they would be covered by my hair and hood,” he retorted.

“So you have x-ray vision eyes on the back of your head.”

“What?.”

“You totally do.”

“No.”

“You do! I knew it!”

-

His sensory advantage over the other hunters meant that the maze tactic worked a charm. That manhunt, he entered the nether before the others, digging a network of tunnels in random directions, forcing the hunters to lose him and each other in the maze.

There, he got to pick them off one by one, his senses telling him where each were by their footsteps and voices as they desperately tried to communicate with one another. They were essentially blind in the netherrack confines of the maze and it was amazing

-

MLGing was a totally different story. People who could see would never understand how difficult it was to judge where you were in relation to the ground when you were falling straight towards it. The wind rushing into his face smothered his senses, leaving only his sense of touch reliable to judge when the ground was coming. The ground had a sort of denseness that he could just feel when it was coming, like how he could tell where structures and buildings were through sound shadowing.

MLG anything (water, ladder, scaffolding, horse, boat) was basically really rapid sound shadowing - a difficult skill that had taken years to train.

-

The large portion of the game progressed as it should. He obtained food and iron, which was easy as he could smell it around him. His trap went well - he managed to kill all the hunters with the TNT in a mine cart. His nether practice had paid off and he did not get any hoglin surprises, much to his relief.

It all went downhill when Ant threw a potion.

A potion of harming.

Right in his face.

The hunters must not have thought much of it. A little food heals potion damage, right?

Wrong.

The events that had occurred after the potion hit Dream’s face 10 years ago had prevented that. The potion had sat on his face for too long, tearing through tissue and oozing through his optic nerves to his brain. Maybe if he had been brave enough to leave the shelter of the tree to get food for healing, he would not be blind. He would be normal. But he had not been brave enough. He had been terrified.

When Ant’s potion hit, everything flooded back to Dream at once. 

He was in the forest. All alone. The men in purple robes. They were chasing him. 

He had to run. He could not see. He could not see. HE COULD NOT SEE. 

There were shards of glass embedded in his mask, stabbing right through and touching the scars that were carved into his face.

He couldn’t do this.

He had to run.

HE HAD TO RUN.

He had to run and he had to hide.

Stifling a scream, he blindly surged forward. 

The men were still on his tail.

“GET HIM!” one screamed.

“KILL HIM” yelled another.

His heart was pounding and he could not breathe.

He had to…

Run…

He had to…

Dream collapsed midstep.

-

Dream woke to jumbled voices, sentences incoherent in his mind. Hands reached out to grab his shoulders and shook him violently.

This was it. He had been caught by the purple-robed men and now they were going to take him for their experiments. He would be locked in a cell forever, like his friends were, being torn apart and sewn back together over and over and over and over, suffering forever.

The hands were on him still, and he struggled against them, his last chance to escape. But they held him down, pinning him to the ground. He was too weak.

But then the hands stopped shaking his shoulders. They wrapped around him, and he could feel the warmth of another body against his, a head of soft hair pressed against his neck. The blood stopped roaring in his ears and he heard the voices again, but not the abrasive shouts of the men in purple robes.   
  


“Dream?” The voice was one of comfort.

Dream took a shallow breath, inhaling the smell of mushrooms that hung around the boy that was holding him in his arms. 

“George,” Dream half sobbed, burrowing his still masked face into his soft fluffy hair.

Another pair of arms wrapped around him. And another. And another. These arms poured warmth and love and care. They didn’t want to take him away. Dream felt so safe, so loved, his friends’ heartbeats against his skin grounding him and pulling him away from the horrifying night 10 years ago.

The group of 5 stayed in silence for a long time, a casing of comfort surrounding a crying boy curled up in the centre - a shield of bodies protecting the boy from the nightmares of his past.

“Thank you,” a small voice - like that of a child - spoke, and Dream realised that it was his own. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Manhunt is based off the “Minecraft Speedrunner VS 4 Hunters Rematch” video from Dream’s Youtube channel. Credits to him for all his amazing content. 
> 
> Also, education time because eduction is important! This Chapter’s topic is braille. Braille is a tactile writing system used by the blind. It consists of different combinations of 6 raised dots (⠿) that can be read using the index fingers.
> 
> Example:  
> ⠙⠗⠑⠁⠍  
> The braille above spells out “dream”.  
> (I think it’s pretty ironic how there are braille emojis since blind people can’t read them - screen readers just read out “braille pattern dots” but this here is for sighted reference).
> 
> There is so much more to braille which I could explain in later chapters if you guys want :)) but I suggest going to blind content creators for more information as I am sighted so I may make mistakes.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments and kudos so I know you want to see more from this work.


	3. You don’t have to tell us your story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Telling his friends would make everything so much easier, yet Dream can’t bring himself to. Instead, he lets the memories eat away at his mind, destroying him from the inside out.

What seemed like hours later, the care-woven cocoon around Dream unravelled, letting a chilling wind hit his skin. The cold sent a shiver up his spine, a spark of fear rising in him. 

But no, he would not feel that fear tonight, because an arm was wrapped around him, leading him away from the site of the manhunt. Sapnap’s hoodie was soft against his skin. They walked back in silence, the sounds of the night filling the quiet.

The group arrived at Dream’s house and stopped.

“Would you like us to leave you alone?” Dream could detect Ant gesturing to his face, no doubt pointing out the shards of glass still embedded into his mask. “You may want to clean up your face a little without us around.”

Dream loved his friends too much. He swallowed, “Yeah,” he said, and when his throat barely made a sound he repeated, “yeah.” There was a prolonged awkward silence as his friends turned to leave.

“Wait,” Dream blurted. He paused. What was he supposed to say? 

“I’m sorry.” He could feel tears forming in his eyes and everything spilled out at once. “I’m so, so sorry for what happened out there. There’s just… There’s something wrong with me and I can’t explain and I know it is frustrating that I can’t explain because it’s frustrating to me too. And I know what happened there was completely ridiculous and uncalled for and I messed up the manhunt that we’ve been practicing and waiting so long for. And that potion. It shouldn’t have caused me to… That was an overreaction and I’m sorry. Can we all just pretend it didn’t happen?”

There was stillness. Then he felt the air shift as someone walked up to him. The rest, sensing they needed time alone, left the house, leaving just him and George.

“Hey, Dream. I want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with you. Something happened and you don’t need to explain because we’ve all lived different lives and we’ve had different experiences.” 

George paused, drawing a bit closer. 

“Dream, look at me.”

Dream tilted his masked face up to where George was.

“You don’t have to tell us your story, Dream. We love you for who you are.”

-

After George left, Dream spent the night painfully pulling glass shards out of this face. His mask was off and laid on the ground and his curtains were closed.

He could smell the coppery scent of blood in the air, strong and sharp and felt the intense sting as water touched open wounds. These were only shallow though, opposed to his initial cuts from the potion that changed his life, before he wore a mask.

He repeated what he did whenever he took his mask off - running his fingers systematically over his face, tracing the lines of each of his scars, over his lips, across the bridge of his nose, along his cheek and brow bones.

Dream had no memory of how he looked, even when he was a child. He knew he had dirty blonde hair and green eyes and was called cute as a kid, but nothing more. The colours dirty blonde and green didn’t even mean anything to him anymore, colours having long faded from his memory. It was a bit ridiculous, but he really wanted to know what he looked like now. 

Dream sighed as he applied a bandaid to a cut significantly deeper than the others. It was rare moments like these when he allowed his face to breathe and he indulged in the feeling of freedom. He turned and rummaged in the fridge, stopping when his hand met the leftover sandwich he could tell would go bad if he left it in another two days.

He sat down at his tiny, wooden dining table and ate his dinner in silence.

-

“Dream!”

His mother barged in, holding the hands of his two younger siblings, his older sister trailing behind. 

“We need to go,” and at his startled look, she raised her voice, “Now!”

Dream dropped his sandwich and quickly followed behind his mother.

“What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later. No time now.”

Then he saw it.

He didn’t know what it was at first, he could only feel the floor rumbling as a dark shadow rolled over the hills towards his village.

But it was not a shadow. It was a horde of people, dressed tip to toe in long, velvet, purple hooded robes. They seemed to be chanting in a foreign tongue. Dream’s mother frantically pulled him away, retreating into the woods as the leader shot a flaming arrow. It hit the roof of his house with a sharp  _ thunk _ , setting it alight.

“Run!”

“Where’s dad?”

A grim expression surfaced on his mother’s face for a split second.

“Later. Now we need to run!” This was the firmest Dream had ever heard his mother.

The family fled as fast as they could and Dream glanced back at his village for the last time, now engulfed by darkness and flame.

-

Dream shook the memory out of his head, finishing the last bit of his sandwich. Some part of him was listening carefully for signs of life outside his door, half expecting his mother to barge in. Some part of him was ready to run again. 

Forever running.

But nothing came. Nothing ever came until he least expected it.

Dream put his hand up to his face again, tracing the jagged scar that ran vertically down the right side, from his forehead, through his brow and across his eye, ending on the upper part of his cheek. 

These scars were not just marks. They were memories. And like the scars, Dream knew his memories would never go away.

He fell into a fitful sleep.

-

Dream woke, breathing heavily. Panic shot into his veins. Where was he?

Oh. He was in his bed. In his room. His adrenaline stopped pumping and he took a deep breath, calming himself down.

It was a new day, sounds of life already coming from the community house across the lake. Dream got out of bed, got dressed and slipped on his mask, making his way to the community house where he could hear his friends eating breakfast. The delicious smell of pancakes wafted through the air and into his nose, putting a smile on his face (his real face, not his smiley mask that was always smiling).

“Morning, Dream!” Bad called, the first one to spot him, and his greeting was followed by a cascade of “morning”s from the others.

“Morning,” he replied.

The atmosphere was a bit uncomfortable, the rest not sure how Dream was feeling from the day before. He quickly broke the to-be-awkward silence to lighten the mood.

“Ooo, pancakes!” Dream couldn’t tell where they were, but could smell a general pancakey smell from all around.

“Pancakes?” Sapnap asked, confused. “What pancakes?”

“The pancakes-” Dream began, only to realise that the pancakes he smelled were not in the community house yet, as they were still being made in the kitchen outside, the scent of them only strong to Dream’s trained nose.

As if on cue, the doors of the community house burst open, revealing Ant, who stopped in slight surprise at the strange mood of the room.

“Heyy, guys… Just came to ask, blueberry or chocolate chip? I’m making pancakes.”

There was a vague gasping noise and everyone in the room turned to Dream.

“Is there something I missed?” Ant sounded very confused, as he should be.

“Er… Chocolate chip sounds good,” Dream replied, blatantly ignoring the many pairs of eyes he could feel on him.

“Aaaaand the rest of you?” Ant asked. When he got no response, he narrowed his eyes and spouted, “Seriously, what did I miss?”

“YOU” George was pointing at him now. “X-RAY VISION” Then he turned to the others, bowing triumphantly, “I told you all! I. Am. A. GENIUS!” 

Dream chuckled at George - how could he not? His friend always knew how to lighten the heaviest of moods.

He stopped chuckling when he realised he was the only one finding this funny (besides George of course, who was laughing at his own ‘genius’).

“Do you actually?” Sapnap asked.

“Well, what do you think?” Dream exhaled. “Of course not! That’s like a superpower! And superpowers don’t exist.”

“Hmmmmm…” Sapnap hummed, and Dream could imagine his friend eyeing him suspiciously.

“Just make us all chocolate chip, thanks Ant.” Bad interrupted.

“Huh, okay.” Ant replied, gladly leaving the scene of immense confusion to get back to his pancake-making.

“So anyway,” Bad continued, “Have you guys heard? There’s someone new coming to this part of the woods.”

“Oh, who?” Dream asked, eager to change the topic.

“Nobody knows who he is. But it is rumoured that he comes from the far west.” Bad stopped. “You know, the place where nobody ever goes.”

Dream’s heart dropped into his stomach as images started to flash in his mind.

The far west.

The far west.

The far… 

-

“Dream!”

The flames were burning through the wood, the low chants of the purple-robed men advancing.

“Mom!”

A wall of flame rose between them, separating him from the rest of his family.

“Mom!”

He tried to cross the flames but the heat sent a scorching pain though him, causing him to draw back.

“Mom!”

He was sobbing, his vision blurred by the wet tears that collected in his eyes.

“Dream! They’re coming!” She was sobbing too and her voice broke as she yelled over the loud cracking of flame. “Head west, Dream, we’ll meet you there. Head far west, where it’s safe.”

Dream could barely make sense of what she was saying, his own shouts deafening his ears.

“I love you!” he called across the fire. “I love you mom!”

The men were close behind now. Across the flames, his mother and siblings turned on their heels to escape and Dream caught one last glimpse of his mother through the wall of flame, their eyes connecting for barely a second.

“I love you, Dream.” she mouthed, a tear slipping from her eye.

The wall of flame grew thicker between them and his mother disappeared.

He ran.

Head far west.

Head far west.

Head far… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading yet another chapter!
> 
> Updates every 3 days (less or more depending on the time I have).
> 
> Please leave comments saying what you like, don’t like or any prompts you want me to write! (also kudos make winter_ym happy so those are nice as well)


	4. Far West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Head west, Dream, we’ll meet you there. Head far west, where it’s safe.”
> 
> Flashbacks set in. The past is creeping up on him and he is struggling to embrace it.

“He wouldn’t want us to take his mask off.”

Dream heard George’s voice cut through the noise. He was on the ground, the back of his skull numb. He must have passed out, fallen and hit his head. 

An involuntary groan escaped his lips.

“Dream?” Everything was a fog in his mind, and he couldn’t even tell who was speaking and where the voice was coming from. 

Carefully, Dream propped himself up on his elbows. He didn’t mean to have lost control. Again.  _ Far west. _ They were just a few words for goodness sake.

He bit his lip under his mask. He couldn’t be like this anymore. Not in front of his friends. This was not who he was to them and he didn’t want to be the one in the group treated like glass. Imagine if they knew he was blind - how much worse that would be - he would be babied like an incapable, useless, worthless child.

He got up, ignoring the spinning in his head. Where was the exit? His damn senses were all over the place. With no idea of his surroundings, he took a few confident steps in a random direction, straight into a chair. He could work with that.

“Dream!” George touched his arm and he flinched in surprise, slamming his leg into the table as he pulled away.

He had to get out of there.

Desperate to somehow find his way out, he reached his hand out to touch the table, subtly trailing his hand along its edge to guide him as he hurried toward the table’s end to where he knew the exit was, colliding with every chair along the way. He drowned out his friends’ protests behind him, praying for the best as his hand slipped off the end of the table and he launched himself into the empty darkness ahead, celebrating slightly as his shoulder slammed into the doorframe. Without a word, he swung the door open and dashed out, ignoring the calls of concern shouted at his retreating form. But nobody followed him (as far as he could tell with his messed up senses) so he stumbled home, where he was safest.

He slammed the door behind him and locked it, ripping off his mask and throwing it to the ground. In a fit of rage, he pulled an axe off the wall, flinging it hard across the room, his own scream ringing in his ears. A mirror shattered. A loud  _ thunk _ sounded as the axe embedded itself into the wooden boards.

Dream sunk to the ground, his hands enveloping his knees, tears now streaming from his useless eyes. What was happening to him? Why were these horrible thoughts resurfacing all of a sudden? 

He felt sad. Mad. Scared.

Alone.

He missed his family. 

_ Oh, mom. What I would do to see you again. _

He could feel his mind slipping into another flashback. He was so scared. Oh god, he was so scared. Violently rocking back and forth, his face buried into his knees, Dream prayed.

-

When he lifted his face up again, he could see.

“Pssst.” 

Dream looked around. He was in the forest, exhausted. After running for days, he had finally shaken the horde from his tail. How long until he reached the far west?

“Psssst.”

He turned to the source of noise, spotting a boy about his age (11) crouched under a rock formation. The boy was gesturing for him to come, his eyes wide. Dream quickly made his way over, slotting himself into the tight space between the boy and the sides of the rock.

“You can’t stay out there,” a low, stern voice said. “It’s dangerous.”

“Are you running from them too?” Dream asked and the boy nodded vigorously. 

“I’m going west,” the boy replied. “They say it’s safe in the west.”

“Me too.” Dream swallowed thickly, tears still in his throat. “My family said to meet them there. Where’s your family?”

“I never had one.” The boy paused, extending a hand out to Dream. “I’m Callahan.”

Dream returned the gesture and they shook hands - a difficult movement since they were in a tight space. “I’m Dream.”

Both boys had been alone so long, fuelled by adrenaline and fear. Now they curled up together, under the rocks, drifting into sleep, the warmth of each other’s bodies providing a little comfort in the midst of chaos.

-

The sun rose on the peaceful morning. Callahan was tapping his shoulder.

“Hey, get up.”

Dream groaned. It had been his first sleep in days. Callahan was already up, holding out a handful of berries to him.

“Collected these, thought you might be hungry.”

Dream put the berries into his mouth and a sweet flavour exploded over his taste buds. He hummed in pleasure. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was. Callahan laughed as Dream shovelled the berries into his mouth, stopping halfway through a full mouthful to say “Fthmank you, Callahan,” then resuming his breakfast. Callahan himself sat cross-legged, his own handful of berries in his lap.

“We gotta keep going. The far west is a long way away and we’re still not safe.”

Dream took a deep inhale of fresh air. He could hear birds warbling in the trees above, the sunlight peeking through the lively green leaves, creating mischievous spots of dancing golden light all around. A day like this he would normally spend playing outside, frolicking with his friends through the forest, jumping over creeks and skipping pebbles on the surface of the river. It was appalling to see how everything could change so quickly.

Callahan slung his sack of belongings over one shoulder and peeked his head out from behind the rock formation, checking that the surrounding area was clear. Upon gauging that it was safe, he gestured for Dream to follow.

They spent the day walking through the forest, chatting about everything and anything. Finally, as the sun began to set, they stopped by the river to take a drink and cool off.

“You know, Callahan, I’ve really only met you yesterday, but it seems like I’ve known you for forever. I was just thinking, when we get to the west where it's safe, that maybe we can still hang out and stuff? I mean, I can introduce you to my family, they’re really nice - I have two younger siblings and an older sister. And my mom is the absolute best.” His expression changed. “I really hope they get there safely.”

“I hope so too.” Callahan smiled at his thoughts, “And yeah, I’d love to meet your family. Strange things like these really bring people together I guess,” he chuckled, but stopped when seeing Dream still looked a bit concerned. He stood up from his perch by the forest’s edge, making his way over to his new friend who sat on the river bank.

Dream looked up at the brown-haired boy, exhaling lightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but a flicker of movement caught his eye. Something was moving in the forest behind Callahan. An animal? 

“Callahan, I think-”

A flash of motion.

“Callahan!”

The foliage was shaking now.

“What?” Callahan stared at him in confusion.

“Behind you!”

Callahan turned and something shot out of the woods, straight into him.

“Run!” Dream yelled, racing towards his friend in an attempt to get his attacker off him.

But the attacker did not attack.

Callahan and… A little girl? sat on the ground, both looking a little dazed. She had blonde hair and light blue eyes and couldn’t be more than 8. Surely she wasn’t a threat?

The girl shook off her dazed look, her face morphing into one of terror. “They’re coming! They’re coming! Please, if you’re not bad people like them, we need to run away!”

Callahan and Dream exchanged looks.

“Are those people chasing you wearing purple and throwing fire?” Dream asked.

“Yes!” She was on the verge of tears. “Please, let’s go.”

Callahan hurried to gather up his belongings. Dream helped the girl off the ground and knelt down next to her.

“Hello, I’m Dream and that’s Callahan. We aren’t bad people, and we’re also running away from them. What’s your name?”

“I’m… I’m Alyssa,” she snivelled.

“How old are you, Alyssa?”

“Eight.”

“You are very brave, Alyssa. Callahan and I will take care of you, okay? We are going to get to the west, where it’s safe. You’ll be safe soon, Alyssa.”

He gave her a reassuring hug, then they began running again.

-

Dream didn’t know how long they had been running, but finally, they reached their destination.

They emerged from the woods and were met with a tall stone castle. It looked dark and void of life, the castle door closed and bolted.

“Is.. this the right place?” Dream asked.

“This is the far west!” Callahan exclaimed. “This is the furthest west we can go!”

“We could… Investigate,” Dream suggested. “Maybe they’re hiding, trying not to be noticed.”

Callahan hummed in agreement.

The group of three carefully walked up to the entrance, cautious to make as little noise as possible. Obviously they were not quiet enough, because as they stepped close to the entrance, a click sounded, followed by a strained creek. Automatic castle doors?

Apparently so, because the door swung open on its own.

Callahan and Dream stared at each other, wide-eyed. Alyssa whimpered beside them, her grip tightening on Dream’s wrist.

Callahan went in first, glanced around, then motioned for the others to follow. The inside of the castle was lightless and cold, a dank smell hanging in the air - musty and unwelcoming.

“Hello?” Callahan called into the darkness.

No response.

“Hello?” Dream echoed, “Mom?”

Silence.

The three ventured on, staying close to the walls of the dark entrance hallway. 

Dream was lost in thought. His mother had said this place was safe, but it didn’t seem to be. Perhaps there was some sort of secret door? A concealed safe room? They had to hide from the horde somehow and a castle like this was large and rather conspicuous.

They turned a corner.

And Dream froze.

-

Before them were cages.

Stacked up all around the cavernous room.

And inside the cages…

Inside the cages… 

  
Were people.

Bloodied, battered people, clothes torn and filthy with grime and blood.

Callahan clamped a hand over Alyssa’s mouth, stifling the scream that almost escaped her lips. He looked terrified, but collected himself quickly, pulling them behind a large stone statue that stood in the corner of the room.

Thoughts raced in Dream’s mind. They had to leave. They had to get out. This wasn’t safe. The far west wasn’t safe.

So where was his mom?

“Dream?”

Dream’s breath caught in his throat.

“Dream?” the voice sounded frail and exhausted.

But familiar.

“Mom?”

Dream peeked out from behind the statue.

Acid rose up from the pit of his stomach.

“Dream.”

His mother lay against the wall of one of the cages. Her face, lined with cuts and scratches, was barely recognisable in the dim light.

Dream’s sense of self-preservation evaporated.

He rushed out from behind the statue, not caring that his footsteps thundered and echoed around the stone walls. Callahan tried to pull him back, but Dream tore himself out of his grip, to where he heard his mother’s voice.

She was slumped against the wall of one of the bottom cages, barely moving. Her hair was matted and wet, falling over her pale, pained face. She looked half the size she was four days ago, her frame thin and skeletal, her cheeks shrunken. Cuts ran all along her body, wounds still oozing with thick, crimson blood. Dream reached out to her between the bars, his fingers interlocking with hers. They felt so… Cold… So corpse-like.

“I need to get you out.” Dream let go of her hand and fumbled around the cage bars, frantically tugging at the thick padlock that held the cage closed, trapping his mother in its vice grip.

“Dream,” her hand fell on his, tugging it away from the lock with barely an ounce of strength. 

“Go.” Her voice was barely a whisper. 

“What?”

“Run. Escape. Before they get you.”

“No!” Dream exclaimed. “Not without you, not without our family.”

“Dream… Your sisters and brother…” She swallowed. A dry, hollow sound. “They’re… They’re gone, Dream. I tried… I tried to stop the men from taking them, but they want… They want children, Dream. I couldn’t protect them, but I can protect you. Please. Run.”

“No no no no no no.” Dream fell to his knees, burying his face into his mother’s bloodied hand. “Mom, I’m not leaving without you.” 

Tears streamed from his eyes. He now clenched the padlock in his fists, shaking it violently with all his strength. His mom tried to pull at his hands to silence the clanging noise, but she was too weak.

“Please, Dream. Go.” She was sobbing, tears carving lines through the blood on her skin.

Footsteps gradually increased in volume. Closer, closer, closer.

“Go!”

He did not run.

A wall of purple blocked all exits. Callahan and Alyssa were roughly pulled out from behind the statue and Dream was dragged away from his mother, his fingers slipping from hers, her blood staining his fingers red. It was a blur, it was all a blur; a dreadful, nightmarish blur. Dream kicked and screamed, but firm hands held him in place. His mother’s face contorted in pain and she was screaming, but her words were jumbled - vague, yet sharp in his ears.

Then the leader stepped forward.

He pulled down his hood.

And the world came into focus.

Dirty blonde hair. Forest green eyes. Thin, half-smiling lips.

No, it couldn’t be.

He couldn’t be.

Dream felt as if he had been hit by a truck, the walls around him swaying dangerously in his head, threatening to collapse on him. He couldn’t feel the hands digging into his arms. He couldn’t even look at his mother, his eyes fixated on the tall man before him.

“Hello, Dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Build-up done. Climax coming.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this chapter! Next chapter's name is “Too Far West”. 
> 
> It is set fully in the past (as far as I have planned, since I haven’t written it yet).
> 
> I’m curious to see: what do you guys think happens next? 
> 
> Please leave comments on your predictions. Any other feedback or constructive criticism is also welcome! (And kudos, because they spark joy)


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